Three years of loving him, three days to erase myself from his world novel Chapter 312

Julian stood outside in the cold for a long time. Only when the lights in Clara's upstairs bedroom finally flicked on did he retreat to his Maybach, placing the kitten gently in the passenger seat.

The three tiny kittens huddled together, looking ridiculously soft. Perhaps recognizing him as their caretaker, they showed no fear, mewling up at him in a way that forcibly softened even the hardest of hearts.

Julian watched them for a moment. He pulled out his phone, snapped a quick photo of the furballs, and sent it to Clara:

[Clara, looking at these little ones makes me think of you. I know I've let you down recently, ruined your trust, and made you push me away... but give me one chance to pursue you again, okay?]

After hitting send, he sat in the suffocating silence of the car, waiting. When no reply came, he finally started the engine and drove off into the night.

The sleek Maybach glided out of the residential complex, passing Dominic Jarrett's Bentley parked discreetly in the shadows.

Inside the Bentley, Dominic leaned heavily against his leather seat, his sharp features obscured by the darkness, his expression tight with conflict.

Ever since he failed to show Clara the security footage at the design competition, he had been desperately hunting for another opportunity to approach her.

Whenever he had a spare moment, he drove here, hoping to orchestrate an "accidental" encounter.

But it felt as though the universe was playing a cruel joke on him, denying him even the smallest opening.

Dominic squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head back in exhaustion. He pulled out his phone, opened his text thread with Clara, and his thumb hovered over the keyboard. He typed, deleted, and retyped.

There was an ocean of things he wanted to say to her.

But in the end, he couldn't send a single word.

If he pushed too hard, she might panic, reject him entirely, or suffer a psychological trauma. Triggering the memories of someone with amnesia was incredibly dangerous.

But stepping back felt like tearing his own heart out.

Trapped in this agonizing limbo, he could only suffer in silence.

[I've been waiting for you all this time. Will you just look back at me?]

He stared at the drafted words before deleting them all.

...

Clara remained completely oblivious to the men warring in the shadows outside her apartment.

But she did see Julian's text.

She stared at the photo for a long time, her chest growing tighter by the second. A lump formed in her throat as a profound wave of grief washed over her—grief for the girl she used to be, who had endured so much pain for him.

Sleep was impossible that night.

When morning finally broke, Clara dragged herself out of bed, exhausted and out of sorts. Her eyes were slightly swollen, a clear sign of the tears she had shed.

Her sleep had been plagued by restless dreams.

One moment, she was trapped in the nightmare of him abandoning her to protect Seraphina.

The next, she was pulled back to the present, drowning in his sudden, suffocating affection.

The whiplash left her entirely unmoored.

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